


i'll reach out and take your hand

by Lire_Casander



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 06:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21490042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: When Alex receives a call in the middle of the night, he already knows what it's about.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 8
Kudos: 154





	i'll reach out and take your hand

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anon prompt over at tumbler: **Prompt: Healthy partner taking care of sick one. Plus points for chicken soup... "Don't kiss me, I'm sick." *healthy partner kisses sick partner anyway***
> 
> I know it isn't exactly what you asked about. Somehow I couldn't manage to write exactly that, and I know my prompter waited a lot until I could finally write it. And yet I like the angstiness in this!
> 
> Unbeta'ed. I own nothing but my mistakes (and there are probably more than enough in this)
> 
> Title from Hanson's song _I Will Come To You_

Alex wakes up in the middle of the night to the ringing of his phone. He reaches blindly for it, knocking over the lamp on his nightstand and creating so much noise that even Buffy growls at him from her crate next to the door. “Manes,” he answers almost breathless as he checks the time on the alarm clock that keeps blinking at him, reminding him that it’s 4:17.

“Alex, it’s Kyle,” comes the shaky reply, and just the sound of the doctor’s voice is enough to wake Alex completely. Kyle sounds distressed, and Alex knows he wouldn’t have called in the middle of the night if it hadn’t been important. “It’s Guerin.”

Alex doesn’t need another word; he never did. He jumps off the bed, Kyle still on the line babbling about _fever_ and _cough_ and _I don’t know, Alex_, and when Kyle admits defeat Alex knows it’s an emergency. He doesn’t even try to fool himself into thinking he’s rushing because Kyle doesn’t know what’s wrong with Michael.

Alex knows he’d run to the end of the Earth for Michael, no questions asked.

He makes it to the Airstream in half the time that usually takes him, in one piece despite the nervousness with which he’s driven all the way across town to the junkyard. Kyle’s SUV is parked outside the trailer, and it’s the only functioning car around. Alex wonders briefly if Isobel or Liz or even _Maria_ know that Michael is sick with something Kyle can’t decipher. He jumps out of the car and runs as fast as his prosthesis allows him to, and yanks the feeble door open. He peeks inside, darkness being swept away by the dim streetlights titillating from the outside.

He can see Michael lying on the narrow bunk, covered with a blanket that’s seen better days, writhing and panting. Alex notices sweat glistening his forehead, and his healed hand above the blanket is twitching. Alex frowns as he steps further inside, closing the door behind him.

Michael’s in pain, and he’s determined to relieve it in any way he can.

“Kyle,” he whispers, breaking the silence that worries him more than anything else – Michael’s home is always bursting with noise, whether it’s him tinkering some engine or the tiny shower running or a kettle whistling on the kitchenette. The quiet is deafening; Alex wants to fill it with laughter and ruckus and _noise_. “What happened?”

“I sincerely don’t know,” comes the reply from somewhere at his left. Kyle’s sitting awkwardly on a chair at Michael’s bedside, the darkness shadowing his features. “He was working with Liz at the bunker earlier this afternoon. They asked me to go along and help them test some blood samples they had.” Kyle trails off when Michael whimpers; he stands up and presses a cloth that Alex assumes is wet to Michael’s temple.

“And then?” Alex presses on. From Kyle’s words he can tell Michael’s been sick for the longest hours before he’s been called. That’s both unacceptable and completely understandable – Kyle hasn’t wanted to worry him with something he clearly thought he could manage. He needs to know what happened to Michael, because aliens don’t get sick the way humans do; it’s the first time he’s seen Michael like this and it’s freaking him out. Alex needs to be in control of everything, and he needs Michael to be in perfect shape so he isn’t one of the people Alex worries about – at least not like _that_. Alex will always worry about Michael, but he has never thought he would need to worry about his health.

“And then Guerin just collapsed on the floor,” Kyle explains when Michael seems to calm a little bit. “Liz helped me get him back here. I know he wouldn’t have wanted to wake up in a hospital.”

Alex shudders at the mere thought of Michael opening his eyes after his fever broke and seeing the aseptic white walls of a hospital room, surrounded by the machines that feed his worst nightmares. “Good call.” He takes a tentative step toward the bed, but halts when Michael whines. The sound he makes echoes in Alex’s ears.

“He’s been calling out for you,” Kyle tells him. “Before losing consciousness, he said he wanted to see you.” He places the wet cloth back on top of the counter before speaking again. “I don’t know what to do, Alex. This isn’t something that goes away with some chicken soup and acetone. I’ve tried _everything_ and the fever just. Doesn’t. Break.”

“I’ll take over,” Alex offers. He can tell from Kyle’s hunched figure on the chair that he’s exhausted. “I can stay, try to keep him cool and wait. He’ll make it out of this. He has to.”

“I can’t leave him,” Kyle protests softly. “He’s my patient.”

“What good an exhausted doctor is to a patient?” Alex tries to reason with him. “I’d suggest you’d go home, because sleeping on that chair is really uncomfortable.”

“Speaking from experience?”

Alex doesn’t reply. Instead, he nudges at Kyle to get up and practically shoves him out of the Airstream. “Go get some sleep. Come in the morning. I’ll call you if something happens,” he promises. He doesn’t dare to look back at Michael’s pale face, for he knows it would break him. He doesn’t dare voice his fears that the fever won’t break and that he has to call Kyle because Michael gets worse instead of better.

“You better,” Kyle mumbles as he stumbles out of the trailer. For a second Alex worries that he’s sending a sleepy Kyle on the road, but when he sees the doctor steading his steps he releases a breath he hasn’t known he was holding. Then, he turns around and closes the door.

Michael’s silhouette is pale, contrasting to the darkness surrounding them both. Alex sits on the edge of the bed, and takes Michael’s hand in his own. “You’re going to get better, Michael,” he promises in a whisper. “I can’t lose you. Not now, not ever.”

He begins singing, soft lullabies his mother used to sing to him when he was sick, and when morning comes the sun finds him in the very same position, crouched over Michael’s frame, a hand on his forehead and a small smile on his lips. Whatever Michael had, it’s gone. The fever broke and Michael isn’t shivering anymore.

Alex lies on top of the blanket, never letting go of Michael’s hand, and sighs when he hears the cowboy whisper, half asleep, “Alex.”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he whispers back.

“Don’t want you to go.”

“Not going anywhere,” he promises, fingers squeezing Michael’s tightly to reassure him and tether him to this moment. “Never again.”

He leans in to press a soft kiss on top of Michael’s curls. “Don’t kiss me,” Michael protest feebly, in between yawns. “I’m sick.”

“Precisely,” Alex smiles against Michael’s hairline. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”


End file.
